


So much cuter

by scribensdracones



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This was supposed to be cute wtf, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 13:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17808791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribensdracones/pseuds/scribensdracones
Summary: She is drunk enough to make him jealous. Finally something to agree on: everything's better when she's drunk.





	So much cuter

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me. I wanted to.

His love was not sweet and tender. She was hardly elegant, feisty and downright tomboyish at times. She was a storm of fire and salt water burning the wounds she cleaved into his chest. Yet this fire could be contained – and so he found himself coming back for more, always more. He could cut her skin open and wear it to keep himself warm. He could, now that he had her under his thumb. He was almost excited, to return to the warmth of her skin and the softness of her bosom.

The days of a Lord were too long – yet it was not over. The scent of alcohol met him the moment he opened the door to his private quarters. Someone had fun without him, clearly.  
“Hello, LoOord.” Ignes had made herself comfortable on the loveseat in the corner, the empty bottle of port on the side table next to it told him all he needed to know.  
“Had fun?”, he inquired idly as he unbuttoned his coat.  
“No, LoOoOord.” She giggled, amused by the way she bastardized this respectful address. Rolling his eyes, he slipped out of his boots. A noble who got drunk was unusual enough. He vaguely remembered Lagus mentioning them being capable of allowing intoxication. Lucky bastards. Ignes did not move when he came closer and so he merely pushed her up into a sitting position so he could sit as well. Flaccid like a lifeless doll, she sank back against him and he caught her in his arms. The slight redness on her cheeks was the most endearing thing he'd seen all week. Like a beautiful porcelain doll with painted cheeks and eyes that would never cry.

“I had nothing else to do,” she complained, not resisting his touch as his fingertips ran along her arm.  
“Well, had you not been such a … Well. If you behave, you can work on the Titan Project again.”  
Ignes did not reply, falling silent. Suspicion still lingered – until that was cleared, he could not have her working on anything of importance. Oh, no, he let this awful girl play with his heart instead, apparently. Not the best idea, but it was too late for that.

Idly, Ignes' fingertips ran over the back of his hand that rested on her stomach. The soft touch made him feel like dying.  
“Why are you drunk, anyway?”, he asked idly and Ignes shifted and twisted until she had managed to turn around, half on top of him now.  
“Because it feels better that way.”  
He placed his hands on her waist and wanted to make a snide remark, or at least think badly of her – but looking into those crimson eyes, empty and warm, and feeling the alcohol in her breath made him realize: if he could, he would be just as drunk. Oh, he could sink into whatever realm of calm bliss Ignes had disappeared into. Alas... Their bodies regenerated too fast to actually let intoxication build up in their systems. At least someone here was having fun.  
“Is that so?”, he asked idly and merely picked her up. Ignes squeaked softly when she was lifted up from the couch and placed her arm around his shoulder for support and merely gave a little hum.

Without much gentleness, he dropped her on the bed and watched her sprawl out as he unbuttoned his shirt. He might as well seize the opportunity, now that he had her in this state before him. She was beautiful, calm like that, eyes empty. Where was her mind? Where was her soul? He wondered, but this worked for him. For now. She was beautiful when she cried, but so much cuter when she laughed, and so much better when she did not scream. It felt so much better when her body did not tense up under each touch, when she remained so pliable under his hands. Like wax he could mold. He could carve himself a little grave in her chest, where her heart was supposed to be.

She did not cry, did not fight, but it made him feel like crying, instead. These feelings were poison in his veins – what brought her joy brought him misery. What made her feel numb made him feel pain just more sharply. What made her dead made him want to die as well. 

But she was so much cuter when she did not suffer. 


End file.
